Safe
by CheekyBrunette
Summary: It's not like he saw it coming, but all of a sudden he was leaning over the table, the taste of Artie filling his mouth. He just made him feel so safe... A pretty angsty Sartie. Starts off one-sided, but glee kids always figure it out in the end.


**I know… I have nine other things I should be working on, but I feel like I need to let myself work with my inspiration a little more. Also, I LOVE this pairing a bit TOO much, and I need to do something with it… (What is with me and weird Glee slash?)**

It wasn't like he saw it coming. One little fleeting thought, and suddenly… this. _I wish we were as close as them._ Seven words Sam_ completely_ regretted. Because now he was outside Breadsticks, mind reeling, and what was probably an _extremely_ confused Artie waiting for him inside.

Seven _stupid_ words, and suddenly his Friday nights were always spent at Artie's house, playing Halo until his fingers bled. Nearly every text that buzzed into his phone was from the scrawnier boy. His time between classes was used to push him from room to room, even though he didn't need him to because it felt… right. He loved when Artie would twist in his chair to smile up at him when he caught him from behind…

_Oh man…_ Sam fell against the building, sinking down to the ground. His throat felt tight, and he wasn't sure if it was because he wanted to cry or wanted to throw up. He had totally blown it.

Because seven stupid, _stupid_ little words had him for some reason not wanting to go home when it got late and the Abrams politely kicked him out. They had him digging into his back pocket no matter what class he was in to read what Artie had texted him, even if the teacher glared. They had him being late to his next period as he caught up with his buddy, just because maybe, _maybe_, he would smile at him, and time could stop for just a second…

Sam kicked at the ground. If only he had _seen_, you know? Maybe if he had noticed how much he _noticed_ Artie. Maybe if he had thought about how much he _thought_ about him. If he had only seen… He could have had a handle on it. This wouldn't have happened. He wished he never said anything about them being tight in the first place, except…

Those seven words weren't something that would have changed how he felt… How he wished he didn't have to be a dude and could do more than just give the other boy a high five without being gay or making him uncomfortable. Or how he wanted to run his hands through his hair; it had felt so good when he was Bieberfying him… Or how he got that weird little flutter in his stomach and the world seemed to stop the second the other boy opened his mouth to sing.

Sam had played it off the entire time. He and Artie were friends, after all… but… he didn't want to be. Maybe. A little. Mostly… Whatever, it didn't matter. He could have dealt with it had he not just _blown it._

He and Artie had been walking down the hallway right after English, lamenting over the deliciousness of Breadsticks'… well, _everything_, and figured they should go for dinner and then back track it to the Abrams' house to spend the night to pick up where they left off. (No, not in _that_ way… Well, not _yet_ in that way, but it didn't matter.) He'd been seriously hurting for some Artie-bonding since he'd gotten back from Kentucky. Sam had missed him hardcore, and had been unable to stop himself from beaming at the younger boy for the beginning of "Red Solo Cup" when he got back to glee club.

Sam had gotten out of the car, helped Artie back into his chair, rolled into the restaurant, and managed to get the crippled boy into a booth flawlessly. Of course, they were in the McKinley glee club. Naturally, things only went downhill from there.

Sure, the food was actually heaven, _heaven_, on a plate, or Sam thought it was, and their conversation was awesome and nerdy as usual, at least from what he could remember, but then he had to go and ruin _everything_, not just their evening but their friendship, by leaning across the freaking table and smothering his best friend, you know, the one who was also a boy, with a kiss right on the lips.

Needless to say, Sam panicked and rushed out the door, leaving him jacketless in the chilly, November air and desperately floundering for an explanation, a way to undo what just happened, a way to drive him home without it being awkward, just… _anything_ to fix this. Because guys didn't kiss other guys. Well, Kurt and Blaine did, and that was all right with Sam, but… he didn't. He was straight… probably. Maybe. Mostly…

It's just… They had been sitting there, talking about Avatar with a bit of Na'vi taking over their conversation here and there, and Sam just felt so, _so_ comfortable. Santana and Quinn were nice until he opened his mouth, his freaking giant mouth, and then they were on him about being a dork. But Artie didn't care. Not about anything like that… Sure, maybe Artie being as near dorky as him helped things, but no one else gave him a "Lookin' good, bro" and a fist pump whenever he passed.

Okay, confession time. Sam _really_ liked it when Artie told him that kind of thing because… because no one else did. It totally sucked, but no one was very big on complimenting the twice cheated on Glee kid, even if he did have rock hard abs and arms possibly stronger than Noah Puckerman's. And Sam was just so, _so_ self-conscious. Guys were supposed to put up fronts and look confident, but that was really hard for him. He just felt… _huge,_ like fat, all the time, and even if he _could_ throw on a t-shirt and make it all go away, it wouldn't matter because he couldn't cover up his _mouth_. You know, the one everyone makes fun of? The one people sing songs about? That was something always upfront, and it drove him insane. So he was on the football team, and he sang his heart out in glee, and he tried, and tried, and tried…. But high schoolers weren't big on compliments, and no one cared, and no one noticed-

But Artie.

And Sam had been looking across at him, watching him sit in something other than his chair and looking so… on his level, and Sam just felt so, so safe, which was a novel idea, and just so secure… Then suddenly, without even realizing what he was doing or what he was feeling, Sam started leaning over the table. Artie dropped off the end of his sentence, and they connected. And for Sam? There was a total of five fantastic seconds where everything was still okay, where everything was still safe. But then he realized Artie wasn't kissing back. In fact, he was doing one worse than not responding, he was flinching away.

Sam broke the kiss, his heart pounding, and it physically hurt to see the smaller boy looking back at him with wide, terrified eyes. That feeling of comfort and safety he had been so reveling in came crashing down around him just like their current situation, and fear and confusion pulsed through his veins.

So he ran, leaving Artie alone in the restaurant with his wheelchair tucked hopelessly behind the booth and an unpaid check behind him, collapsing against the outer wall and wondering how he could leave without the added guilt of pegging a cute kid in a wheelchair with a bill and no way to get home.

He shuddered. Like, really? What the hell? When was he going to have a normal relationship with someone? Seriously, even his straight up _friendships_ didn't end well. Sam clenched his teeth. Ugh, this was terrible. He didn't even know what he… felt.

Oh gosh, _feelings._ Crap. He had "feelings" for Artie Abrams. Like that didn't bring everything into perspective. He rested his head against the restaurant, beyond nauseated by the whole thing. Why… why did his life have to be just _so_ messed up? Sometimes it felt like he was too slow for his own good. Too slow for a good job, too slow for a lasting status at anything, too slow for his own feelings… Currently, Sam felt like he'd just been stepping down rung after rung on the ladder of success. He had messed up with that whole "White Chocolate" business, he wasn't exactly cool at McKinely anymore, he was in Glee, he was… in love with a guy…

_Wait, love?_ Sam nearly threw up on the pavement. Okay, no. No. That was wrong, he definitely wasn't in _love_ with shrimpy Artie Abrams. Nope. Never. Maybe. Mostly. Sort of…

_Gah, this is so messed up!_

Suddenly, there was a very familiar squeak of a wheel that had been making noise all week coming towards him. Crap. Crap, crap, crap. Not who he wanted to be talking to right now. _Not _who he wanted to be talking to right now. If anyone? Maybe Kurt. Or that Blaine kid, even _if _he had been sort of a jerk to him… but hey, he'd kissed Rachel! That was kind of similar… And to be fair, he was younger than him, and he had sort of sort of pushing him into doing something that made him uncomfortable so he really wasn't all bad, and… Oh gosh, of all people? Why Artie? Why right now?

"I'm pretty sure the dude is supposed to foot the bill on the first date," Artie said awkwardly, flashing him a smile and giving him a playful nudge. Sam wanted to die on the spot, but instead he offered a watery grin back.

"Who said I was the dude?" he asked, and Artie laughed easily, making Sam's teeth clench and his eyes water. He was being so nice, and accepting, and… perfect… It made his heart ache because he _really_ wished he had noticed how much he loved it before he _ruined _everything.

"Um, the trillion pounds of muscle you have on me," the brainiac answered lightly, and Sam found himself wishing humiliation _could_ kill when his eyes immediately fell to Artie's relatively strong arms. He had great upper body strength, having to roll himself around and lift himself… _No, no. Stop _thinking_ about it. Stop it forever. _Artie seemed to catch his lowering stare, and Sam felt his already burning cheeks grow even warmer. His toyed with his collar, suddenly feeling too hot, the chill of the evening gone.

"I'm so sorry…" he said quietly because even when he was embarrassed and upset, Artie was _still_ somehow making him feel safe. And Sam _so_ never felt safe. Never. He had a freshman girl's self-confidence and, sure, it was a bit mortifying, but, man, Artie. Didn't. Care. And that could make his world feel okay for a while. And sure, maybe it also made his hands clammy. And yeah, sometimes it made his heart flutter. And, okay, maybe after leaving the Abrams' house he sometimes felt like running home, a whole fifteen miles, just because he felt so good.

But that didn't change what it meant to Sam.

Cause he didn't have a lot of that 'safe' feeling.

So it didn't matter who it was from.

The younger teen sighed. "All right, why don't you climb up into Artie-Claus's lap and tell 'im the whole story," he offered in his gangster voice, opening his arms in a welcoming way. Sam allotted himself a tiny grin and climbed aboard, tucked neatly into his chair despite the pesky armrests in his way. Artie was just so easy to curl into… You wouldn't think it, wheelchairs being a thing made for one, but there was a reason Brittany had managed to spend 95% of her school day in his lap. He was so cozy, and comfy, and he just felt like… _home_. And Sam missed home…

He buried his face into the crook of the smaller boy's neck and cried. Just… shoulder shaking, body wracking, heart wrenching _sobs_ emanated from his core. Everything from his insecurities, to his homesickness, to the impossible _regret_ now consuming him came out all at once, and for one blissful moment, it was too much for him, and he couldn't feel anything at all. All there was to him was himself, Artie, and the thin but strong arms wrapped around him. Somewhere in the back of his brain, he wondered if this was how Kurt and Blaine felt whenever they got close because Sam had certainly never felt this much through such simple contact with a girl. Not once. Not ever.

Everything hurt so bad. He missed his mom, he missed his dad, he missed his siblings, and he missed Mercedes, and Santana, and Quinn, and Sam really, _really _didn't want to add Artie to the list. It already hurt too much… Sam couldn't help but wonder if the junior could read his mind when his arms miraculously hugged him tighter. "I-I'm so s-sorry," he choked out. Artie chuckled under his breath, and Sam could feel his chest rise up and down beneath him, making him feel just… hopeless. Because he was perfect. Simply perfect.

"Don't be," Artie told him, rubbing his back a little bit with one hand and reinforcing that disheartened feeling he got when he'd laughed. Every time he laughed, now thinking about it. Sam struggled to catch a breath.

"B-but I _am_," he told him, desperation lacing through his voice. "I jus'-jus' don't want t'be a-_alone_ anymor'," he slurred. Artie merely 'hm'ed in understanding by his ear as Sam continued to let himself pretty much melt into the other boy's shoulder, unable to compose himself. "An' y-you don' know how special you are t'me. Y-you don'- don' know…" he trailed off, out of air and out of steam. His fingers gripped helplessly to Artie's shirt. He let him hold tight as a young couple walked by, their hands intertwined and their eyes giving them a weird look. It was like he didn't even _feel_ it. "Y're 'mazing," he gagged out.

"Calm down," Artie whispered into his ear, and suddenly Sam was feeling hopeless again. "It's okay. Everything's okay." Sam shook his head, pushing away from him, scrubbing at his tears and all too aware of the fact that he probably looked terrible. Crying, ironically, had a way of making a person feel worse about themselves, considering it made you look a trillion times worse than normal.

"How can it be okay" he asked, sounding oddly sober in comparison his previously incoherent speech, "when I'm me and you're you?" Artie smirked, weaving his finger's through Sam's.

"Cause we can also be us," he said, in that stupid, perfect, wonderful understated way that simply _was_ Artie. The gears in Sam's head grinded slowly as he processed what the younger boy was saying, what was implied. Then, without noticing he had moved, Sam was out of his lap and backing away, untrusting his ears. Artie arched an eyebrow at him, while he just sort of floundered in what he suspected to be an unattractive way back.

"Wha~?" Sam was worried his brain was deceiving him. "Don't lie to m-"

"I wouldn't," Artie cut him off, wearing that expression that made Sam feel like he was flying every time he saw it. "Look, this is kind of complicated, but I really _do_ like you, Sam, and I don't want to see you hurt. I don't know exactly what that means in terms of 'us', but I do know that there can be a you and me." Once again, Sam felt like throwing up on the pavement, cold wind blowing hard on his neck now that he'd crawled away from Artie. Suddenly, he missed the other boy's lap.

"But, I-I'm… I'm-" he stammered, trying to say a million things, like how imperfect he was, and how undeserving he was, and how _beneath him_ he was. Artie grabbed his hand.

"Perfect," he finished for him. "You're perfect. Don't worry about it," he told him, making Sam want to fall to his knees and cry again because he wasn't, of course he wasn't. He sucked in a breath of air, trying to keep himself together. He was a guy. Guys weren't supposed to cry. So instead, he ran a hand through his blond hair, messed up from the wind, and looked to the ground, trying desperately to keep his tears in his head where they belonged. His heart hurt.

"You don't have to," he puffed out eventually, and Artie just smiled at him.

"I want to," he said, snagging his hand and rubbing it with his thumb. And this time Sam didn't feel so hopeless. In fact, he felt quite the opposite because Artie was saying _yes_. And even though he'd only realized that he loved him minutes ago, that feeling of never having him had been brewing inside for what felt like an eternity. It was like a million tons of heartache were just lifted from his shoulders, and he could breathe, crap, he could _breathe_ while Artie just looked at him like he _wasn't_ the greatest thing in the world, and, wait, is this what it felt like not to be hurt?

"I'm sorry," he muttered again, not sure why or what for, just that he felt guilty. Really, really guilty. Like, how could anyone even bear to look at him, he was so disgusting? Artie squeezed his hand a little tighter.

"Don't be," he repeated, and Sam scrubbed the tracks of his tears from his face off on his thin, worn-out jacket. He nodded in response, not trusting his voice to keep from breaking on him. "Good. Now, let's go school you in Halo," he told him, sounding very… _Artie_ again. He let himself grin a bit, following the younger boy to the car.

It wasn't like he saw it coming. One little fleeting thought, and suddenly… this. And maybe _this_ wasn't so bad.

**Like, am I the only one who noticed that bit in "Red Solo Cup" where Sam just COULD NOT take his eyes off of Artie? See? Mama got BASIS for her pairing… ugh, the could be so amazing…**

**Gosh, if there is anything more inspiring than that one moment of Vincent and the Doctor where the art professor is talking about how amazing a painter and a man Van Gogh is while he stands behind him… man. Tell me, cause I need to hit that up.**

"**It's all about your cries and kisses, these first steps that I can't calculate. I need some more of you to take me over." –Athlete, "Chances"**


End file.
